


The Devil You Know

by cheride



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Gen, Missing Scene, New Partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24641557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheride/pseuds/cheride
Summary: From Peter's dining room table to picking Neal up from prison seems a pretty big jump. There had to be more to it than that. Missing scenes from the pilot.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fanfiction, for entertainment purposes only. The characters and concepts of _White Collar_ do not belong to me, but to their creator.  
> Originally published 5-19-20.

* * *

Elizabeth had finally gone back to bed, leaving Peter alone at the table with his box of reminiscences. He should have known she’d be able to help him make his decision. He liked to think he knew Neal Caffrey better than anyone, but his wife knew _people_. And, honestly, she probably even knew Caffrey; he had certainly been the topic of many conversations over the long years Burke had been chasing the guy. Peter shook his head with a rueful grin and conceded he might have to settle for second place in the knowing Neal Caffrey category.

He thought back several months, to the day Neal had made the preposterous suggestion that Peter arrange to have him released to work on the Dutchman case. Burke had immediately refused, telling the convict he knew him too well, but he was glad El had convinced him to reconsider. Sometimes it really did take someone from the wrong side of law and order to catch another; the FBI used criminal informants for a reason, after all. Besides, he really did like the kid, even if he was unlikely to ever admit it. But he would have to make a few plans, because he _did_ know Neal Caffrey, and he understood the risks this deal would bring. It wouldn’t be an easy sell back at the office, but Peter Burke was sure he could make it work.

**00000**

Neal Caffrey lay on the cot, watching the darkness progress throughout his block. He knew he shouldn’t wait for Bobby to come by and tell him to turn out his own light, but he honestly hated the nights. Still, he’d been on pretty thin ice the past few months, ever since his short-lived escape, so he was trying to be on his best behavior. Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, drew the next tally mark on his wall, and then shut off his light before the guard reached his cell.

He stretched himself back out on the cot, feeling the scratch of the rough blanket that covered the too-thin mattress beneath him, but he’d quit worrying about those sorts of comforts long ago. Tonight, there really was only one thing on his mind: he shouldn’t be here. The scratch mark on the wall representing the turning of another day should never have been drawn; he should have walked out of these gates earlier today. Had he not gone after Kate, he would be a free man tonight.

Caffrey sucked in a slow breath, considering. _Was it worth it?_ That brief taste of freedom—not even twelve hours—had cost him four more years of his life, and he hadn’t even found her. If he’d seen Kate for even one moment, been able to touch her just once more, the answer would be easy; he would gladly give up his freedom for that. But to have sacrificed in vain? That answer wasn’t so simple.

In the apartment, before he’d been dragged away, he’d said he didn’t care about the additional years. And, truthfully, if he had to live without Kate, then it really didn’t matter. But in the intervening months, he had realized the real problem with his extended incarceration was that it would prevent him from finding her. Neal knew if he could get out, he could find his lost love, and they could be together again. But it was only now, lying in the darkness at the start of another prison term, that he was fully recognizing the escape might have been a mistake. If he could have only waited four more months, he would’ve had all the time in the world to look for her. He shook his head, trying to squash the thought. Because, of course, back then, he wasn’t sure Kate _had_ four months. And now he was sure she didn’t have four _years_.

He thought back to his most recent meeting with Agent Peter Burke, the day he’d proposed a sort of work-release program to help the FBI catch Peter’s current quarry, and he still felt the disappointment of the rejection. Not that he’d expected the guy to just _jump_ at the chance, but he had hoped Peter knew him well enough to at least consider the possibility he could be helpful. Instead, Burke had basically told him he knew him too well to trust him, and that was kind of hurtful, no matter how accurate the assessment. Caffrey had held out hope for weeks that Peter might change his mind and come back, but had finally been forced to admit that the agent had seen right through his plan; the man really did know him too well. Now he needed a new plan.

And without even realizing he was considering it, Neal reached his decision. He had to get out. He would’ve preferred the custody arrangement he’d proposed to Burke, but escape would do. But this time, he’d have to be even more careful. Now that he knew they’d send Peter after him again, he had to be sure he had everything worked out. Peter had caught him twice because he knew Neal Caffrey in a way no one else did, so he would have to make allowances for that. It would take time, but not four years. He just had to plan.

Having made up his mind, Caffrey finally closed his eyes. _Hang on, Kate. I’m coming._

**00000**

Peter Burke flipped nervously through the papers in the file folder, ensuring everything was in place. It was at least the tenth time he’d checked them. He was unusually anxious, but he knew this was a big day, though the idea surprised him. He really shouldn’t be so invested. But he’d spent the past week gathering information—well, _supplementing_ information really; the kid had definitely given him a good head start— making his plans, rehearsing his arguments. Peter knew he was as ready as he could be, but he took one last look at the pages, just to be sure.

The alarm chimed on his phone. It was time. He rose from his desk, smoothed his tie, took a steadying breath, then carried his folder to the office next door.

Reese Hughes glanced up from his computer as Burke approached his doorway. “Come on in, Peter.” He gestured vaguely toward a chair. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you.”

Burke closed the door behind him, dropped into the chair across from Hughes, then sat silently waiting. He focused his attention on not fidgeting.

Finally, Hughes turned his attention to the waiting agent. “So, what’s so important that you needed to make an official appointment?”

“I’d like to get a CI authorized,” Burke answered, and he was surprised by how calm he sounded.

Reese raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Okay. Just get me the suitability report, and I’ll sign off. Like always.”

“I’ve got the report for you,” Peter tapped on the folder he still held, “but I wouldn’t say this is like always.”

Hughes leaned back and gazed at his senior agent speculatively. After several long seconds of silence, he finally spoke a single word. “Caffrey.”

Burke allowed himself a small sigh of relief that his boss actually broached the idea first. “Yeah.”

“Why? You haven’t said a word about him since you got back from your prison visit months ago, and then the word was ‘no.’”

“I might’ve been hasty. The kid was right; there’s precedent for this sort of thing.”

“I’m not worried about precedent, Peter, I’m wondering what the point is. What can he actually do for us that makes it worth letting him go free?”

“Not free,” Burke objected, “monitored probation, for the full term of his sentence. And, honestly, I’m not sure exactly _what_ he can do for us, but he says he can help us catch the Dutchman, and I think it’s worth a chance to see if he’s right.”

“He’s a con artist, Peter, he says what people want to hear.”

“I know that, Sir, but he’s also the smartest person I’ve ever chased. If we could have him on our side . . . I mean, how did he even know about the Dutchman, much less that I was working on the case? And that Canadian fiber, what about that? Locked up for almost four years, but he’s got the inside scoop on brand new, _classified_ anti-counterfeiting technology from another country? How does that even happen? He’s obviously someone who’s keeping up with things.”

“You mean, someone who isn’t showing any sign of rehabilitation,” Reese countered.

“Maybe,” Peter replied with a slight grin, “but a prohibition against ongoing criminal activity is a standard condition of probation.” He sobered. “I’m willing to accept responsibility for him, Reese.”

“That’s a _lot_ of responsibility. And for a long time. He got four years for the escape, right?”

“Yeah. I figured we’d do a trial run with the Dutchman, see how it goes, make it permanent if it all works out.”

Hughes backtracked to an earlier comment. “You said monitored probation. What about intermittent confinement? That might be easier for the brass to understand.”

“Send him back to lock-up every night?” Burke balked at the idea. “No. Besides, that’s not practical for a long-term CI; he needs to be able to work when I need him to work, and that’s not likely to be nine to five.”

“So exactly how _do_ you see this working then, Peter?”

“I want him here with me,” the agent replied, “every day. Working the cases with me.”

Reese stared across the desk in disbelief. “Here? Working directly with you on everything? Like a consultant of some sort? You weren’t kidding about this not being like always.”

“No, Sir, I wasn’t. I know this is kind of unorthodox, but it’s certainly not unheard of; like I said, there’s precedent. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think this is the way we can get the most good out of him.”

“That sounds like a lot of Bureau access for a felon. Are you sure you can trust him?”

Peter considered his answer carefully. “Trust him? Maybe not completely. But I _know_ him, and I think I can control him.”

“Peter . . . you’re really putting yourself out on a limb here. Why? Especially for someone who just escaped maximum security. You know, regular CIs, they come and they go. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes their own handler ends up being the one to arrest them again. It’s all part of the game, and, for the most part, as long as you follow the rules, everyone understands that criminals rarely change. But what you’re describing, that would get a lot more attention than your standard CI brought in from time to time. You set him up to be essentially your full-time partner, and you’re going to take a lot of heat if something goes wrong. I don’t want your career to be collateral damage when Caffrey steps out of line again. Maybe we should let this wait a few more months, or at least consider the intermittent confinement.”

Burke held his gaze steadily. He didn’t want to resort to explaining that he’d never believed Neal Caffrey belonged in maximum security to begin with, or that another four years there would almost surely destroy any _hope_ for rehabilitation. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Hughes how lost the kid had looked sitting in that empty apartment, or how quickly he’d seen the con man’s mind work when he’d recognized the Canadian fiber. Those things were more personal considerations and unlikely to sway the man. Hughes was only interested in what Caffrey could do for the Bureau; whether or not the Bureau—or Peter himself—could do anything for Caffrey never entered his equation. But it was part of Peter’s own equation, so he needed to convince Hughes. Because he _did_ know Neal Caffrey, and he knew the con man needed this deal more than Burke himself, and would be willing to do his part to make it work. Of course, he also knew the reasons Neal needed the deal, but that was another thing he didn’t intend to discuss with Hughes.

He finally offered a heartfelt response. “He’s smart, Reese, so damn smart. I _know_ he can help us. And like I said, I’m willing to take full responsibility. Let me give this a try.”

After a moment, Hughes pointed to the file folder. “Your suitability report is in there?”

“Yes, Sir.” Peter passed the file across the desk. “Along with proposed probation terms, behavioral reports from the prison, details on the monitoring process, budget considerations, and some applicable case studies on precedents.”

“You came prepared,” Reese said with a tight smile.

“I’d really like to make this work,” Burke replied sincerely.

“Let me look it over,” Hughes said noncommittally. “I’ll let you know.”

Peter thanked him, then headed back to his own office, already wishing he had somehow been more persuasive. But he’d done what he could for the moment, so he immediately opened up the latest Dutchman files that were waiting and got back to work.

Hours later, Burke looked up from his endless notes, diagrams, and scraps of paper as Hughes stepped into the office.

“Thorough work, Peter,” the ASAC said approvingly, dropping the Caffrey folder back onto his desk. He pinned a steely gaze on his agent. “You sure you don’t want to consider at least some part-time confinement?”

“I really don’t,” Burke told him, shaking his head.

“You know the whole thing is contingent upon him actually being able to deliver, right?”

“Right.”

“ _And_ ,” Hughes said firmly, “you understand it’s your ass on the line if anything goes wrong?”

“I do.”

Reese nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ve certainly got reservations, but I’m willing to let you try it out with the Dutchman and see what Caffrey can do. Good luck.”

And with that, Hughes was gone, leaving Peter to hope he really did know Caffrey well enough.

**00000**

Early the following afternoon, the final plans had been made, and Peter Burke was awaiting a visitation with Neal Caffrey. For an ice-breaker, he’d brought along the young man’s “goodbye” bottle that he’d been holding since he’d arrested the kid months before.

Burke looked up as Caffrey came quickly down the steps into the room, then pushed the bottle forward on the table in greeting.

“They won’t let me have that in here,” Neal said, looking annoyed with the agent.

“I know.”

Caffrey’s expression moved quickly from puzzlement to understanding, and he smiled as the message sank in. “So, we have a deal?”

“That’s up to you,” Burke told him with a shrug. “A marshal will be here in a few minutes with a tracking anklet and a copy of your probation conditions. If you agree with the terms, then we have a deal.”

Caffrey moved over to seat himself across from the agent. “Simple as that?”

“Pretty much. If you’ve got a lawyer, you should call them. Have them with you before you sign anything.”

“Are you trying to pull something over on me?”

Peter shook his head with a small smile. “It’s just good practice. Binding agreements and all.”

Neal let his eyes meet the other man’s. “I think I can trust you, Peter.”

The unexpected response surprised Burke into silence for a few seconds, and he suddenly heard Hughes’ voice. _He’s a con artist, Peter, he says what people want to hear._ The agent certainly knew that better than most people, but he also knew there was more to Caffrey than just that.

“At least promise me you’ll _read_ it,” Peter finally said.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be waiting outside.” Burke rose from the table, taking the bottle with him, and moved toward the exit, but paused when he heard Neal call his name. He turned back and found the young man smiling at him. Not the blinding smile he’d seen in the occasional security camera photo or video over the years, or even the self-assured smile the kid had worn throughout most of his trial. This was smaller, more sincere, and Peter found himself drawn to it. But he knew he had his own part to play. “You changing your mind already, Caffrey?”

The smile didn’t fade as Neal gave his head a single shake. “I just wanted to say thank you,” he said softly. “I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not,” Burke answered gruffly, then continued out the door.

But deep down, Peter felt the truth of Neal’s words. After all, he _knew_ this man.


End file.
